


Misadventures in Courting

by draugrEmpress



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Dwalin, Bofur is a Sweetheart, Brotp, Dwarf Courting, Emotionally Constipated Nori, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Nori is a Little Shit, Poor Dwalin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draugrEmpress/pseuds/draugrEmpress
Summary: Nori needs important life advice in the middle of the night.  What else is there to do but break into his friend's apartment?(Rated for language)





	1. The Break-in

“This had better be a fucking dream,” Dwalin groused, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

 

“Glad to know you dream ‘bout me breakin’ into your chambers, Capt’n,” Nori shot back from where he was sprawled across the foot of Dwalin’s bed.

 

The captain of the royal guard unceremoniously kicked the royal spymaster in the head, earning a grumble and a pinch to the knee.

 

“How in Mahal’s name do you keep getting in here? _Why_ do you keep getting in here?”

 

“For old time’s sake. Besides… I need some help.”

 

Dwalin swore under his breath. “Which noble you piss off this time?”

 

“Why is that always your first guess? Can’t a dwarf just want to ask his best friend for some friendly fashion advice?”

 

Dwalin pushed himself up on his elbows to stare incredulously down at Nori, who shot him a shit-eating grin in return. The reformed (or so he claimed) thief was a mess: coat wrinkled and covered in stains, his elaborate hair in disarray, a black eye, and a missing boot.

 

“Ye’d better not be bleeding out on my good fucking blanket again.” Dwalin heaved himself out of bed, crossed the room to the hearth, and set about rekindling the fire.

 

“I get stabbed _one_ time and you hold against me for eternity. We’re gonna be in the Halls and you’ll still be grumbling about your damn blanket. Besides, Mahal knows Ori’s made you more than enough blankets to make up for it.”

 

Dwalin rolled his eyes, having become accustomed to Nori’s affinity for dramatics. Once the fire was going again, he turned back to the heap of a dwarf on his bed.

 

“Why are you here, Nori?”

 

Nori didn’t bother to get up. “It’s like I said, I need help with something.”

 

Dwalin rubbed his temples and sat back down on the bed. “Y’er going to have to be more specific.”

 

After a long moment, Nori sat straight up and nearly toppled onto the floor from the momentum of the act. Now upright, the usually collected dwarf swayed about like a dwarfling’s toy top. Dwalin watched him wary as Nori dug through his pockets to produce a bundled up handkerchief. When Nori thrust it at him, he gingerly took and unwrapped it.

 

“I’m touched by the gesture, but…”

 

Nori swatted him – or, at least, he tried to and missed miserably. “They’re not for _you_ , you clot head! They’re for _Bofur_.”

 

Dwalin picked one of the two beads from the bundle and took a closer look. It was made of gold and had inlays of rose quartz. As he rolled it around in his hand, Dwalin idly thought how the pastel shade would surely clash with Nori’s red hair. However, such a delicate color would stand out nicely against Bofur’s darker braids.

 

“They look suitable to me – whoever you _acquired_ them from put quite a bit of work into them. When’re you giving them to him?”

 

Nori glowered at the larger dwarf. “I commissioned them, not stole ‘em. And I _can’t_ give them to him, that’s the _problem_!”

 

Nori’s gaze softened into the most open expression of pain Dwalin had ever seen on the thief. Nori drew a flask from his remaining boot and took a long swig before offering some up.

 

Dwalin waved it off. “Why can’t you give it to him? Mahal only knows how long you two numbskulls have been dancing around one another.”

 

“He’s still pining after the _hobbit_ ,” Nori groused, taking another swig.

 

“One,” Dwalin lectured, “the two of them are close _friends_ , nothing more; and two, he’s been pining after _you_ for longer than Master Baggins has been alive.”

 

The look Nori gave him was reminiscent of one of the fish in Laketown’s market – eyes wide and mouth gaping. Dwalin was honestly shocked at the range of emotion he was seeing tonight, and resolved to tease his friend about if for years to come. Once all this courting nonsense was cleared up, of course.

 

“Nori,” Dwalin sighed, “go home. Clean yourself up – and ask Dori for something for the hangover – and take these to him tomorrow. If I hear you’ve skipped town, I’ll hunt you down and haul your sorry ass back myself.”

 

Nori’s jaw shut with a click. Dwalin handed him back the wrapped up beads, ushered him out of his apartment, locked the door – wedging a chair under the knob, just for good measure – and then went back to bed.


	2. The Chase

“Didn’t think I’d actually have to fucking do this,” Dwalin griped.

 

He had dropped by the royal library the afternoon after Nori’s visit to pick up a tome for his brother when Ori had informed him that Nori had never come home. Abandoning his post for the day, Dwalin went searching through Dale and then Laketown for the thief. What began as a day trip turned into a two-day dwarf-hunt, culminating in an hour-long pony chase along the Old Forest Road. In the end, Nori was thrown from his saddle and into the remnants of a giant spider’s web when an elvish patrol cut him off.

 

Now Dwalin was dragging the royal spymaster – still covered in webbing – through the crowded hallways of Erebor by the ear like a petulant dwarfling. Nori had mostly resigned himself to his fate until they came into sight of the mining district. He then attempted to dig his feet in and refused to budge, but Dwalin was hardly in the mood for such nonsense.

 

“March! Or I’ll carry you like a maiden.” As Nori began to reluctantly cooperate once more, Dwalin waved over a passing miner. “Fetch Mine-master Bofur. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

 

The miner hustled off and was soon out of sight in the twisting pathways. After a several minutes of waiting, Dwalin spotted a familiar hat bobbing and weaving through the crowds towards them. Nori, who was resolutely staring at his mismatched boots, failed to notice Bofur’s approach.

 

“Who’s dead?” Bofur was red in the face and covered in dust, obviously having been doing some hands-on work before their interruption.

 

Dwalin released Nori’s ear and cuffed him over the head. The thief glowered and was about to snap at him when Bofur reached over and pulled a long piece of webbing off his shoulder.

 

“How in Mahal’s name did _this_ happen?”

 

Nori tried to respond, but Dwalin cut him off, “You two’re going to sit down and talk like grown dwarves or I’ll have you _both_ digging latrines for the rest of your lives. Mahal only knows how long you two have been giving each other the runaround!”

 

With that, Dwalin stomped off, leaving a red-faced Bofur and a glaring Nori. It would be almost a week before he saw either of them again, but it was well worth it to see the courting beads displayed prominently in their braids.

 

It was even more worth to see Nori turn an alarming shade of red during a Company dinner when Dwalin began reciting his account of the nighttime visit that prompted the proposal.


End file.
